


you're my sweetheart

by mandyfuckinmilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich Week, M/M, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandyfuckinmilkovich/pseuds/mandyfuckinmilkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to have the boy and everything else. He wants to have the boy and the life.</p><p> <br/><i>I’m ready, I’m ready, I’ve always been ready.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> Gallavich Week Day 1 Prompt: Together. This didn’t turn out how I wanted it to and the timeline is nonexistent, much like the canon, so I’m sorry.

"I could make you happy."

"I could make you miserable."

Mickey’s pulling his jeans over Ian’s boxers. He’d just picked them up blindly off the floor and yanked them on, over his legs and thighs, like they were his own. Ian doesn’t care, he likes it, he likes Mickey having something of his, he likes giving Mickey something tangible to hold on to. If he could, he’d give Mickey everything he had. Every shirt, every pair of boxers, every blanket, every pain, every kiss, every beat of his heart.

If he could.

Ian lights a cigarette to have something to put in his mouth before he says more shit that’ll make this even more uncomfortable. _We're not ready,_ Ian tells himself. _He’s not ready, I’m not ready._

It feels hollow, like a lie. Ian knows, has almost always known. It’s been the one constant in his life. Like his life is split into Before and After. Before Mickey. After Mickey.

The smoke fills his lungs. Mickey doesn’t look at him once. Ian wants to know what Mickey’s thinking so badly.

Mickey takes the cigarette from Ian’s mouth after he’s pulled the rest of his clothes on and walks out the door. Ian tries not to feel like his heart left with him.

//

Mickey does this thing when he’s about to come. He tightens his legs around Ian’s waist or reaches back to grip Ian’s arm. He just wants Ian to plaster himself against him as he’s about to lose himself. Like he wants Ian to hold him together, to make sure he has something to hold on to, to find his way back to earth.

Mickey shakes in his arms and Ian’s never felt more wanted, more at peace, more like he’s holding something precious in his hands.

//

Ian’s got a lot of plans for his future. He knows he’ll have to work hard for them, harder than anyone else would have to probably, but he thinks he’s up to the challenge.

"Shit," Mickey laughs softly, a cloud of smoke escaping his mouth. "You’re one of those."

"One of what?" Ian doesn’t look up from proofreading his English paper.

"One of those," Mickey waves his hand in the air. "Fuck what’s the word? Ideals and shit. Head in the clouds. Dreamer."

"Yeah fuck off."

Mickey laughs some more and keeps smoking and flicks Ian’s ear every few minutes to distract him. Ian smiles and feels his chest sink, the words blurring in front of him.

//

Mandy is in love with Lip. She plants her ass on the counter at the Kash and Grab and swings her legs back and forth, has this little, secret smile on her face. Like she knows every secret in the world, like she has something everyone else wants.

"It’s kind of…" she trails off, smiling and tilting her head down, twisting her hair in her fingers. "But you know. You’ve got… you told me about that guy. He’s still around right?"

Ian nods silently and almost breaks his pencil when Mickey walks in. He doesn’t have time to fix his face because Mandy’s kicking him while Mickey shoves at her. Their eyes meet and Mickey smirks at him.

Ian wants it. He thinks he might have it sometimes.

//

Mickey tastes like cheap beer and bubble gum. Ian can’t get enough of it.

"Wanna go to a movie?" He presses his lips lightly against Mickey’s.

"No." Mickey’s breathless and Ian’s mouth twitches, before he sucks Mickey’s bottom lip into his mouth. "Wanna sneak into a Blackhawk’s game?" 

"No." Mickey bites out, a little more forceful and he tugs on Ian’s hair.

"Wanna-"

"I want you to shut up." And he pulls Ian down on top of him.

//

Sometimes Ian traces the scar on Mickey’s leg. Sometimes Mickey watches him do it. Only once was Ian able to apologize for it.

"Shut the fuck up." No bite in his voice but fire and memories in his eyes. Ian slides up his body, leaning over him, looking at his mouth. "Apologize for shit you can control."

Ian touches him and never says he’s sorry for it. Ian kisses him in the darkness and never says he’s sorry for it.

//

Mandy is in love with Lip. Lip isn’t in love with her. She doesn’t show it, is able to turn it off and control it, but she hurts. Sometimes, when they’re drunk on Ian’s couch and her fingers play with his hair, she wonders out loud what it is about them. About all of them.

"We just hurt each other. And sometimes we mean it. But most of the time. Fuck I don’t know."

Ian does. He knows and wonders what it would take to make it stop. 

//

Ian doesn’t hate a lot of people. And when he does, the reasons are solid. He hates Monica for dropping in and out of their lives whenever she feels like it, he hates Frank for being a drunk and taking money and the bruises around his neck. But none of that compares to the hatred he feels for Terry Milkovich when Mickey doesn’t show up to work for two days only to appear with bandages across his ribs and a broken face.

Ian kisses him soft, in the back room, when it’s just the two of them. When Mickey’s looking so lost and quiet and guilty. Ian never wants to see that look on his face again but he knows he will.

"You can come here. Okay. Whenever. For whatever."

Here. The store. Ian’s house. Ian’s arms. It doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered. Ian’ll go anywhere for this boy.

//

Ian’s got a lot of plans. Getting his grades up. Graduation. West Point. The army.

It doesn’t hit him anywhere special, there’s no grand build up, nothing that triggers it. Only Mickey stealing a donut and tossing half of it to him. Only Mickey waiting in the red van in the backyard and pulling him on top of him, smashing their lips together. Only Mickey.

He wants to have the boy and everything else. He wants to have the boy and the life.

_I’m ready, I’m ready, I’ve always been ready._

He wants to be one of those people who can have it all.

//

"We could be happy. Someday."

Mickey snorts softly into his shoulder. Ian wonders why the fuck he’s such an idiot, why he can’t just let things go, let things be. It’s so much easier just being quiet.

They’re silent for a long time, the room getting darker and colder and Ian pulls the covers over their bodies, Mickey laying still and quiet, Ian thinks he’s drifted off to sleep.

"When?"

Ian stares up at the ceiling, his hands holding Mickey’s waist and back.

"I don’t know." Honesty. It’s bitter and it hurts but Ian’s not a seer, he doesn’t know anything, he only knows this feels right, this is the truth, this is his life. He hears Mickey sigh, feels Mickey’s body collapse deeply against his.

"It won’t happen Gallagher." His voice is small and Ian holds him tight. He doesn’t sleep at all.

//

So maybe Mickey’s right. Mickey’s always right somehow. Ian’s a dreamer and he’s fucked. Mickey lives with his feet firmly on the ground and he’s fucked. They make each other miserable, they make each other crazy, they make each other sad. They hurt each other and Ian doesn’t know how to stop it. He doesn’t know if he wants to. They’re fucked.

Accepting that is much harder than Ian thought.

//

"He’s gonna kill me," Mickey tells him one night, while rain pours outside. Ian says nothing, just brings Mickey closer, kisses his forehead. Tries to understand, tries to make them both feel safe. Tries to reach the ground, ends up in the sky again.

//

Ian comes home late most nights now, when everyone’s asleep. Sometimes Lip’ll be up, Mandy’s head in his lap, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He’ll give Ian this look, like he’s crazy, like he’s the stupidest fucker in the Southside. And maybe he is.

"Mickey Milkovich huh?"

Mickey is crude and rough and has blood and dirt under his fingernails. Mickey doesn’t apologize, Mickey doesn’t filter, Mickey doesn’t lie to him. Mickey is just beautiful and Ian just loves him.

It’s simple for Ian while it’s complicated for everyone else.

//

There’s blood everywhere. In their hair, their eyes, dripping down their necks and seeping into their clothes. It’s under their fingernails and Mickey cradles his face with sticky hands, his eyes bright and wet, looking happy and light. He looks broken and beaten down. He looks beautiful. He looks free.

"We can make each other happy," he croaks out, his eyes everywhere on Ian’s face. Ian’s hands come up to grip his, their fingers twisting tightly together. His heart pounds hard, his chest feels like it’s knitting together, binding itself to something much larger, something he never knew existed. The heart right in front of him.

"We can make each other miserable," Ian mutters against Mickey’s mouth, Mickey’s smiling, laughing, broken mouth. He kisses him lightly.

"Same fucking thing right?" Mickey kisses him again, harder. Ian can’t even feel his heart beat.

All there is inside him is this feeling. It’s attached to Mickey’s smile and Mickey’s kiss. It fills him up and spreads through his legs and arms to his fingertips. 

He touches Mickey and Mickey radiates. Mickey looks at him like he’s a dream, like he’s every want, every pain. He touches Mickey with bloody fingers and kisses him with a broken mouth and they’re happy.


End file.
